


Coralie

by amyfortuna



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-09-01
Updated: 2001-09-01
Packaged: 2017-10-30 07:19:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/329198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amyfortuna/pseuds/amyfortuna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anakin plots a game of seduction. But sometimes when you set out to seduce, you can be trapped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coralie

I always thought the word Master was a bit of a joke; Obi-Wan and I have been more like good friends than the ordinary master/padawan relationship tends to allow.

I was taken as his padawan with absolutely zero training, so Force knows there's a lot I didn't understand at first. Hey, there's a lot I still don't understand; like why it is so hard for most Jedi padawans to do the simplest things? Some can't even levitate a feather! And some (I can't believe this; I was doing it before I was ten) can't even read the superficial emotions that float vaguely off sentient beings to be picked up by any passersby. Obviously, the Jedi, as a group, aren't quite as powerful as I believed in my childhood.

But back to my master--he's never been a puzzle for me to figure out. I've had him pinned since we met. He has three things on his mind mostly -- guilt, Qui-Gon, and sex. In that order. Sometimes oddly combined.

Yet lately my name has been turning up in his head a bit more, sometimes even in connection with the last of the three.

Well, it's about time! I'm sixteen, for the love of the Force, not a child anymore.

And I'm finally taller than him, too. Thought it would never happen, but now it's so enjoyable to see his slight twinge of jealousy whenever he looks at me.

I've taken it into my mind that I should seduce my master until he's senseless with infatuation. It sounds like a good idea. And so much fun.

With that in mind, I tried an experiment last night. I've already begun sitting closer to him, laying a hand on his body whenever I can, and generally looking at him more like a lover and less as the dutiful padawan.

And he's received it quite well--poor man, starved for a touch and terrified of being unfaithful to Qui-Gon! He hasn't touched a soul for the past six years; I should know.

So last night, I went to bed, pretended to go to sleep, let my outer shields fall, and replayed one of my most vivid dreams.

In that dream, I was having my wild way with him, kissing him madly, stroking his cool skin with fiery fingers, wrapping hands and mouth around his erection until he was begging incoherently for more.

Sixteen I may be, but I know what I like, and what he likes.

He likes being taken, so in my dream I plunged my cock deep into his eager welcoming body, leaving him screaming, crying and finally exploding in a wild thrashing orgasm.

He like pillow talk too, so after the frantic sex in my "dream," he pulled me up beside him, kissed me hard, and we --

But at this juncture I heard him moving around in the common room. His mind had gone suspiciously silent at the beginning of my "dream" and for a moment I was sure he knew everything and I would be severely reprimanded. Then he sank back on the couch with a sigh, dropping the datapad he'd been reading, and paid mild attention.

As the loving in my dream intensified, his breathing grew ragged. At the dream-climax, he closed his eyes and I could sense his aching arousal under his so-serene Jedi robes.

After a moment, he stood up, walked over to my door, hesitated a moment, then knocked.

I got a bit nervous; I wasn't ready for a confrontation so soon. When I answered, sleepily: "yeshmashter," he opened the door, standing gloriously profiled in the light, and said coolly: "Padawan, your shields are slipping."

Then he turned, shut the door quietly, and went into his own room. I firmed up my lax outer shields quickly, but continued to watch him secretly as he tugged his clothes off and fell with a groan onto his bed, stroking his own cock half-roughly, replaying my "dream" in his mind.

Oh, yes, I'm making progress, after all I can't expect him to succumb to my charms on the first night. But soon enough, he'll be in my arms and I'll be in his luscious body.

That will be a sweet night indeed.

* * *

My master is the type who will only notice sudden changes in things. In fact, most of the Temple is that way--no one seems to catch the subtle nuances that I do. Like when the Etruscans were going to attack on our last mission--I knew the night before. But Obi-Wan was going around all that evening complaining that he had a "bad feeling about the negotiations." He could have asked me. Bad feeling, right, I would have said. They're going to attack in the morning -- that's why you have a bad feeling. 

Still, today proved he's more than catching on.

Yesterday I overheard a snippet of conversation between two Knights. "Kenobi projects only two things, determination and angst," one of them said, laughing.

So true...but that's not all.

Determination and angst. The first to train the hell out of me -- literally -- the second over Qui-Gon's death and far greater than it ought to be.

We were sparring as a warm-up exercise, and I deliberately left my chin open in the same mistake Qui-Gon made six years ago.

He gasped out loud and laid the handle of the saber against my chin, very slowly.

"I thought you knew better than this," he said quietly, holding the saber still in place against me.

"I forgot, Master," I answered, frozen.

Flipping the blade off, he reversed the lightsaber, like he'd just smacked me hard under the chin and I was recovering from the blow, and brought it down, touching my side in the same move that killed Qui-Gon.

"A Jedi does not forget," he said, with something of steel in his voice, then drew back, looking into my eyes and stated: "I relive that move every night in my dreams. I lost my master to it, and I refuse to lose my padawan the same way. So we'll practice it here until I'm certain you won't make the same mistake again."

I nodded and assumed the position of warrior-ready.

"Wait, not that," he said. "Lay your saber down and stand behind me."

I did so, and he edged back until we were standing a breath away from each other.

"Place your hands over mine," he ordered and I complied, smiling secretly at his nearness against me.

Our bodies pressed together, we moved through the steps in tandem, sweeping forward, back, and sideways, with his lightsaber, in slow motion. When we approached the steps I'd erred in, he paused.

"What were you doing just before you left your chin open?" he asked. 

"Defending a frontal attack, Master," I answered.

"Precisely, and you drew your saber too far to the side, leaving the other half of your body open."

We continued through the steps and when I tried to move to the right with the saber, he pulled it to the middle and said: "There's your mistake. Correct it in combat now."

We ran through a combat kata that used many frontal attacks and defenses, and this time I blocked every one of them smoothly. A little too smoothly.

After about fifty successful parries, he paused and looked up at me keenly. 

"Were you actually having trouble with that move, Anakin, or did you make that mistake for some other purpose?"

Oooops!

I was fairly caught there.

"I--some other reason, Master," I said as calmly as I could.

"What reason?" he asked, looking at me with almost--I couldn't quite sense whether it was fear or just curiosity.

I breathed out slowly, opened up our bond as much as I could, and threw myself on the floor at my Master's feet.

"Master, I--I'm sorry," I heard myself say.

"Padawan," he warned. "Tell me now."

I laid my lips on the toe of his boot and then raised myself to my knees. If he did not buy my next words, all would be lost.

"I knew of no other way," I paused briefly, "to get your attention."

He drew his breath in sharply, and I looked up to see unshed tears glittering in his eyes.

"Padawan," he said again, and this time the voice was a plea.

"Master, we've spent six years together and you've never...never stayed with me when you could be somewhere else, never asked me who I am or what I care about, never even bothered to find out the name of my mother, for Force's sake!"

Throwing out a gentle mental probe at our bond, I found a raw bundle of quivering nerves. He had realized all too swiftly that I was right. And it had hurt badly -- old wounds left to fester were being opened up.

Reaching down, Obi-Wan took my hand and pulled me to my feet.

"Pad--Anakin," he said. 'You are right. I haven't been--well, consider my attention gotten. But I never meant to--"

*Hurt you*.

The unspoken thought was almost tangible.

I was overwhelmed. Not in all my dreams had I dared to expect him to do or say this!

"Master," I breathed. "Can we--now? Can we make it right?"

In answer to my question, he laid both hands on my shoulders and drew me against him for the first time ever, resting his head for a brief second on my shoulder.

"I have much to make up to you, Anakin," he said. "Yes, we can--we can talk about anything you want for as long as you like."

Then he moved away, and I let him go reluctantly.

"Would you like to talk in our rooms, Padawan?" he asked. I nodded, and began to follow him to the door.

At the doorjamb he turned, leaning against it, watching me thoughtfully.

"Anakin," he asked, musingly. "What is your mother's name?"

* * *

The rest of the day was nothing more than a source of unmitigated joy for me. He did indeed learn my mother's name, as well as far more about podracing than he really wanted to know, I'm sure.

We began talking when we got to our rooms, with deliberate intensity, rather forced at first. But by lunchtime we were giggling at certain hilarious stories Obi-Wan was telling about his experiences with Qui-Gon, some even acted out, just a bit, and told with humor and enthusiastic laughter. Obi-Wan is striking when he smiles, and deathly beautiful when he tells a joke, slyly humorous, but when he laughs, the stars fall out of their courses to hear him.

We snatched a hasty lunch from what we had there, not wanting to break the spell, and continued our round of shared stories and discussion. For some reason, I learned more Jedi philosophy from him in a few minutes than I had in a year of classes.

Curled up on the couch, sometimes touching, sometimes not, we debated, discussed, laughed, even argued a bit just for fun.

I'm certain the people in the next rooms must have wondered what was going on.

Though we still addressed each other as master and padawan, it was clear to me that the titles were quickly becoming as much of a joke to him as they had always been to me. The shells we hid ourselves in had been broken and we were only two human beings, lives intersecting in the purpose of the Force, bound to each other by a dying promise.

"I wish I had been bold enough to cry, as the ritual demanded," Obi-Wan said at one point. With the last afternoon shadows streaming in our window, the talk had finally turned more sober, remembering Qui-Gon's life and death.

"Why didn't you?" I asked. Pausing for a moment, he shifted closer to me and sighed.

"The only tear I've shed in the last six years-the only tear I ever shed for him-he wiped away with his own hand."

Obi-Wan reached up and gently drew a warm finger over my cheek, lightly. My skin burned where he touched. "I have never yet cried for him, whether out of pride or perhaps the mask you cracked today, the false serenity I hid behind."

Some store of sympathy in me welled up; I held out a hand, offering my self, my heart, and my life for his comfort.

"You can cry now."

The intensity of his reaction should have surprised me more than it did; he flung himself abruptly at me across the couch cushions, I gathered him into my arms, almost as though I were the master and he the padawan.

"Anakin, Anakin," he whispered softly, lips against my shoulder, body draped over mine. "Thank you."

And in the light of a dying sun over the Jedi Temple, Obi-Wan cried, tears falling silently onto my tunic, for the first time in six years, the serene facade finally forever dissolving.

* * *

Eventually his storm of weeping subsided and he lay slumped against me, obviously too exhausted to move. So we didn't. I pulled a cushion out from under my back and placed it carefully behind my head, stretching out as much as the couch would allow. His body lay almost completely over mine, limp. He pressed his face into my tunic and, like a child, drifted away into dreams.

Odd, that he was twice as old as I was and I was taking care of him. I enjoyed it, rather, in spite of the slight cramps I was sure I'd have in the morning. With the feel of his warm welcome weight against me, I fell silently, naturally, into sleep.

And for the first time I dreamed Obi-Wan's dreams. He hadn't been kidding when he said that he dreamed about Qui-Gon's death every night. But this one was different; I could sense his feelings of confusion through our bond and knew that, on some level, even sleeping, he was aware of my presence and trusted it.

_Obi-Wan was standing behind a red tinted wall, watching in terror as Qui-Gon fought--no, it wasn't Qui-Gon fighting the Sith this time, it was *me*, blond hair with its braid flying, lightsaber slashing fiercely._

And even in the nonsense of a dream, this frightened me -- the Sith looked up, directly at my face. Our eyes met, and they were the same -- my eyes in the body of a Sith, looking out of place against the red and black that covered the rest of his body.

I wanted to kill. I wanted to embrace.

I did neither.

I woke up and Obi-Wan with me, gasping. Light was just beginning to creep in through the windows.

Obi-Wan moved off of me, and I sat up, a bit stiffly. We smiled shyly at each other, not speaking, before he stood all the way up and walked over to his room.

When he returned, looking much more like a serene Jedi Master than the man who had innocently, chastely, fallen asleep in my arms last night, I had thrown together a swift breakfast. We ate nearly silently, both a little shy of each other after the previous night's wild emotion. Almost before we finished, Obi-Wan's comm beeped.

A quick glance at me, and he answered it. Already changing, he was, a day earlier he would have taken the comm into his own room. "Kenobi."

It was Mace Windu.

"Knight Kenobi, have you and your padawan taken the Coralie retreat yet?"

My master's eyebrows raised and his smile could not be quite hidden by the comm against his mouth.

"No, we haven't yet, Master Windu. We were...awaiting assignment?" he questioned.

"Been changed. You're to report to Coralie today. Under strict orders to relax. I'm tired of seeing you wound up, Knight."

"Yes, Master Windu. Kenobi out."

Obi-Wan dropped--dropped!--the comm onto the table, and came around it, nearly dancing, almost pulling me into a hug.

"Coralie? What's that?" I asked. "A good thing?"

"Yes!" he answered, more emphatically than I'd ever heard him speak before. "Coralie's the secret retreat of the Jedi, on Alderaan. And we're to go there today, with commands from the Council to get rested."

I laughed. The Jedi weren't, then, all about Code and living like monks. There was a streak of ordinary lifeform about them.

This could be fun.

* * *

"I'd forgotten you never were an initiate, so you wouldn't know about Coralie already," Obi-Wan said to me by way of an explanation, once we were on our way to Alderaan on a Jedi courier ship, standing next each other staring out the viewport.

Alderaan was beautifully blue, hanging in blank space. I had a sudden vision of a dark hand reaching down and squeezing the planet like a fruit. I shuddered and pushed the thought away hastily.

"So, initiates go there?" I asked.

"Yes," Obi-Wan answered. "They're taken there at the ages of four and nine for lessons in the Living Force of nature, which they can't get in purest form on Coruscant. It's considered the most fun and exciting part of the training, looked forward to by all initiates. After that, masters, at the direction of the Council, take their padawans there two or three times, just to relax."

"But what is Coralie, where is it, and why is it secret?" I wondered.

"It's a small island deep in the great sea of Alderaan--only the Council and a very select group of pilots know exactly where it is. It is secret because it would be the last refuge of the Jedi in great danger. And it's a beautiful place, I promise you," he answered, a bit mystified. He fell silent as we entered planetfall and I watched the stars fade behind the shifting clouds.

When we landed, the ship's engines did not shut down; apparently we were only being dropped off. Obi-Wan leading the way, we walked out of the ship, and my eyes went wide.

Grass, dark green and cropped short, spread out just beyond our small landing pad, broken only by a light brown dirt path that led into the distance, where I could discern gardens a little way off. Flowers scented the air lightly and provided glorious color to highlight the green. Beyond that, low houses stretched out in the sunlight.

I could hear the slow pounding of the sea, leisurely, like the rhythm of lovers, washing up to the shore.

Ten seconds here and I was already certain, this was paradise.

* * *

We were met by an ancient man and woman who greeted us effusively, patting Obi-Wan's cheeks like he was ten and not over thirty. They tried to pinch mine, but I ducked out and away, seizing the bags from Obi-Wan, leaving him to the embraces of the guardians.

For that's what they were, I learned later, guardians and caretakers of this retreat, who just simply *lived* for the influx of Initiates twice a year. They had been active duty Jedi for many years, and finally were chosen to retire here. I couldn't help but think they'd gotten off with an easy life, until I saw the calluses on their hands. I also learned later that the man did all the cooking for the Jedi on retreat, and the woman had planted every single flower in the gardens.

Their names were Jedi Masters Damian and Lorna and their padawans were all masters themselves now. Lorna's first padawan had been killed in the Deep Mine affair of Corneth, and lines of remembered sorrow were written across her face, though her smile was brilliant.

Finally they showed us to the small cabin we would be occupying for our stay here. We were the only Jedi currently on retreat, so we got the best cabin, almost on the beach. Down a short series of steps, the ocean rolled gently in, bluer than blue.

Obi-Wan had to tell me several times to unpack before I could drag myself away from the view.

After a short argument, half in play, over who got the biggest closet in the two-room cabin, we stepped out onto the porch, breathing in the salt air. I had seen oceans before but never one this lovely, and the sight of so much water always took my breath away.

"Shall we go swimming?" Obi-Wan said, observing my longing look at the water.

"Thought you'd never ask!" I exclaimed, and raced out of the cabin, down the steps to the beach. Obi-Wan followed at a more sedate pace, having stopped to pick up towels.

I barely stopped to take off my clothes and fold them hastily before jumping into the ocean. The water was wonderfully warm around my ankles as I turned, watching my master approach.

"By the Force, you're beautiful!" I called out to him on a sudden impulsive whim. He laughed, took off his own clothing and joined me in the water.

"I'm beautiful, huh?" he asked. And splashed me.

It was a good thing he did so. Gave me a chance to get out into deeper water, where my quickly-becoming-obvious arousal could not be seen. Laughing, I swam away, until the water was lapping at my nipples.

Then I turned, and watched him some more. Ah, beautiful didn't begin to express it. He was nothing less than a perfectly-trained manifestation of the Force, made for my pleasure. And soon, soon, he would be my pleasure.

* * *

The sun was beginning to go down when we finally left the water. Both of us were slightly reddened from the sun and both of us were unbearably aroused by the presence of each other. For the moment, we kept that to ourselves, each hoping the other did not notice.

Well, but I hoped he didn't notice that I'd noticed.

We shared a quiet dinner with the guardians on the patio of the dining hall. As we ate, the guardians shared some of the history of Coralie with me.

It was Lorna who spoke. "Coralie is ancient indeed. In the memory of the Jedi the beginnings of this place as a refuge are not recorded."

"The island is small," Damian said. "So it is thought that perhaps here was the very beginning of the Jedi as an organized society of Force-users. Here they could hide, far away from the mainland, the only island in a giant sea."

Lorna turned and pointed toward the middle of the island, where a large rock stood. "That is the Rock of Blessing," she said, "or so it has come down in our traditions. It is said that once when the Jedi were desperate for fresh water, the rock split in two, letting loose the stream inside. Thus was Coralie ever supplied with water."

Damian went on. I wondered briefly if this was the same speech that they gave the initiates, in a less formal setting. "We eat fish here as a major part of the Coralie diet, because fish was what kept the Jedi alive in those dark times."

"Fish and berries," murmured Obi-Wan, speaking up for the first time in the conversation.

"Here, we learn of the deep connection between ourselves and all that lives. Yet, to keep secret the place of refuge, you will forget the name of this place when you leave, and only remember it if you need. It will be locked deep in your mind, and you may call it out, if you need a hiding place. Under no other circumstances will you remember it."

The concept of Force-forgetting was familiar to me; I had watched Obi-Wan interrogate a farmer on Darshan about whether soldiers had passed that way, and when he had gotten the information, my master had simply gestured with his hand, saying quietly, "forget." It had never been done to me, though, and I was uncertain that it would actually work.

* * *

Later that evening, we watched the stars slide out into the night sky and the small moon of Alderaan rise over the horizon. Obi-Wan and I had strolled down the beach to a sheltered nook near the mouth of the River of Light, the river that sprung from the rock.

"You know that stone I always carry with me?" Obi-Wan's voice broke the silence.

"Yes," I said. "The one that sometimes glows with Force."

"Qui-Gon found it here when he was just a boy, in this very river."

"Oh," I whispered, seeing another side of my master's master. It was hard for me to imagine Qui-Gon as a boy, but I tried, kneeling down on the soft sand to sift small rocks through my hands.

"He was nine years old when he found it. He told me years later that he ran to share his discovery with the rest of the initiate class, and not one of them could see the Force-lines that ran through the rock. One of the masters could though, and she told him to keep the rock, that it was special."

Obi-Wan dropped down gracefully to sit on the sand beside me, raising his head to look up at the stars. "And he did," he went on, "and gave it to me. On your Knighting Day, I will give it in my turn to you."

I was silent for a moment, just looking at him with his hair and beard gleaming reddish gold in the starlight. And a sudden fear took me over; that I would never see Knighthood, never know what it meant to be Obi-Wan's equal.

"Master," I said, my voice soft, and curled up next to him, feeling suddenly vulnerable. He laid a hand on my shoulder, gently, sensing my fears.

"Don't be afraid, Anakin," he said. "It will be all right."

But later that night, lying lonely in my own bed, I wasn't so sure.

* * *

The only thing that remained of my arrogant determination to seduce my master was my desire to; the possibility of it happening got more remote as the days went by. And if anything was going to happen, I finally decided, it wouldn't be because I thought it would be a nice challenge to bed Obi-Wan Kenobi, but because I really cared for him.

For we grew closer as the days went by, but at the same time farther apart. We shared our confidences, bathed laughing in the ocean, and denied that feelings existed between us.

I knew he wanted me, but suddenly that wasn't enough. Not enough to desire me for my body only. I now wanted him to desire me for my heart. And I well knew how strange I could be, how full of fear and deception. But I wanted him anyway.

When the explosion of desire between us finally came, it was totally unexpected -- not on the sand under the stars, but lying on Obi-Wan's bed in the afternoon, discussing the Living Force. We had been chattering for the last hour or so, in the quiet afternoon of the day, with the windows open and light shifting subtle across the room.

In a physical demonstration of how the Force was like the fingers on a hand, Obi-Wan had twined his fingers with my own, and apparently forgotten to remove them. I had no opinion on whether or not the Force was like a hand, but a good deal of opinion about keeping his hand in mine.

Our fingers played with each other almost as though they were not part of ourselves, massaging pressure points, caressing, enfolding. And after some minutes of this, I decided that was all the teasing I could take.

I leaned in and kissed my master.

Dimly I felt him give a soft "oh" of surprise just before our lips met, and then I was sinking into his mouth, licking at his lips for entrance. His beard tickled my skin as I threw myself into the kiss and my arms went around his waist without a thought.

Sweet wet warmth for an instant, and then he drew away, looking at me fondly.

"I hope you know what you're doing here," was all he said. I laughed.

"No, the question is whether or not _you_ know what you're doing," I answered.

"I've had a lesson or two," he replied, taking my face in his hands, leaning in, and stealing my breath away.

"If this was what you wanted, why didn't you just ask?" he said, after another long kiss, his forehead pressed to mine, both of us panting.

"You weren't ready," I said, and drew a hand down his robe-covered body to grasp his erection. "But now I can see you are," I laughed, petting him.

Obi-Wan rolled on top of me, taking my hands and pinning them to the bed, grinding his hips against mine with delicious force. "Careful," he growled. "Your body could be classified as a dangerous weapon on about twenty planets."

I writhed underneath him, canting my hips so that our cocks came into contact. "Want you," I breathed out, my clothing suddenly feeling far too warm.

He gave me himself. For moments we lay together, our first sudden wild ecstasy fading into sweet calm. When the beating of my heart had subsided to a measured time, he drew away from me, and began to pull his clothes off. I lay for a moment, just watching, then realized that this was real, and I'd better get mine off too.

Our Jedi clothes ended up beside the bed, in a scattered heap. I waited, kneeling on the bed, for him to finish undressing, and laughed delightedly when he threw himself at me across the bed.

"You want this," I said, more teasing than anything else.

He smiled, and took my hands in his own. "Yes, Anakin Skywalker, I do," he said, and his voice was completely sincere.

"Do you love me?" I asked, feeling a trifle uncertain. He raised an eyebrow.

"How could I not?" he answered, and there was nothing of the liar in him, he spoke the truth, but I simply was not sure it was the kind of love I wanted, that possessive thing that grabs and holds and does not let go.

But I did not push my luck. I leaned forward and kissed him instead. Our bodies melded together like sand and waves in the afternoon breeze.

I found myself kissing my way down his body, getting lost in the salt flavor of his skin. Tiny scars dotted his chest and belly and I wondered if these were ancient lightsaber burns or badges of courage for heroism in negotiations on war-torn planets. 

"What do you want?" Obi-Wan asked, smiling up at me, looking far more beautiful than I'd ever imagined in my silly fantasies. I turned my head to nuzzle his thigh with my lips.

"You," I whispered. And then took a deep breath. "Inside me."

My master grinned like a wyldkit, and pounced. I went from being in charge to most deliciously out of control in a matter of seconds, flipped over, and Obi-Wan's oil-slicked fingers sliding into me.

Warmth shone from his eyes as he brushed fingers deep into my body, stretching me. He said nothing, just looked at me, when he finally pressed his cock all the way home, touching off a small explosion in the center of my being.

And I was lost, lost to him, the feel of his mouth on my skin, licking at the tender skin behind my knee, his cock so far inside I was wondering if it would ever really come back out. The look on his face was one of tortured ecstasy as he waited. Finally I smiled, and that must have been some kind of signal, because he started to move.

Taking my own erection into his hand, he moved his hand with the rhythm of his thrusts, so that we were rocking back and forth to a beat not unlike that of the ocean outside our window. The sweet sea breezes swept over me, sensual and warm, making me feel like a god among men.

I waited out his perfect time, and at last it was the look of frozen bliss on his face that sent me over the edge.

For a long time afterward, there was only silence, and the feel of him, drained, against my skin.

* * *

Finally the time came to leave. We packed our things, and with a last look around the island, which had grown precious -- we had made love in so many places in that past two weeks, on the beach under the moonlight, next the waterfall on the Rock, on the porch of our small cabin, that I was already desperately waiting for the time we would come again -- we stood waiting for transport.

Damian and Jorna had said their farewells some time earlier, so we waited alone for the aircraft to pick us up. We spent the time in kissing, Obi-Wan somewhat frantically, as though we could not kiss whenever we wanted to, now.

When the plane arrived, we boarded together, and the Jedi pilots took our bags for storage. We were told that immediately upon arrival, we should report to the Jedi Council for a possible mission.

Obi-Wan smiled at me, and kissed me one more time for good measure, then the pilots took off, lifting away from Alderaan.

I stared down at the green and white island we had just left, and a sudden dizziness overcame me. I struggled against it, but to no avail.

I found myself lying on the floor, several minutes later. Obi-Wan had apparently turned around when I fell and caught me, but he was now just staring out the window again, coldly.

"Are you all right, padawan?" he asked.

"Of course, master, just a momentary dizziness," I replied.

"Where are we going?" I said after a few moments, still confused.

"Home," he answered.

"But I thought," and paused, wondering, "we were just there."

Obi-Wan turned and looked at me, hands tucked into sleeves, face perfectly composed. "Are you sure you didn't hit your head?"

"I might have," I conceded. Then a thread of memory hit me. "Weren't we, I mean, you and I, uh, didn't we...?"

Obi-Wan looked sad and stern at this. "It's typical for padawans to have crushes on their masters, but I expected more from you, Anakin. Please it to keep your fantasies, no matter who they may be about, to yourself."

I shook my head, completely mystified about the odd memories popping up in my brain, and sat down, seatbelting myself in for the jump to hyperspace.

"Amazing how the mind can play tricks on a person," I said, quietly, and Obi-Wan merely looked at me, worlds removed from the man I thought he had become. "For a moment, then, I thought you loved me."

* * *

Vader stared out the viewport of the Death Star, reflecting on the threats he had used to try to get Princess Leia to talk. She was as brave as the Jedi once had been, he thought, before fear had made cowards of them, and led them screaming to their deaths or as slaves to rich masters.

But that had not been the fate of all of them. Some had escaped. A few were deeply involved in the Rebellion, hidden there. Others were hiding on desolate planets, waiting to die. But many of them could not be found at all.

Vader had examined the documents of the Jedi for any hidden code. He had searched the Temple, before he burned it. He had tortured the Jedi initiates. He had examined his own memory. And still nothing.

"Approaching Alderaan, sir," a meek technician dared to tell him. He turned, cloak sweeping the ground.

"Good," he said. "Send Tarkin to me." The Princess was brave, but at this she would crack, he was sure of it.

* * *

"But Alderaan is a peaceful planet. We have no weapons," Leia said, voice finally beginning to tremble.

Tarkin pushed a little more, and she finally revealed, "Dantooine. They're on Dantooine."

Wrong answer! Vader expected Tarkin to continuing questioning her, but he turned away, making hand signals to the technicians.

A blue blot of light shot out. Before Leia or Vader could understand the significance of the light, Alderaan exploded.

Vader turned to Tarkin, close to killing the man for destroying any hope of finding where the Rebel base really was, but pain suddenly raced through his head. Millions of souls released at once to the Force screamed in agony. Most were not Force-sensitive, but a surprisingly large number were very strong in the Force.

"What is it? Why?" Vader found himself asking. Probing out, he found only a mental block where a memory should have been. With the strength of the Dark Side, he reached in and smashed the barrier.

And suddenly he remembered everything. Coralie. Damian and Jorna. The River of Light. The soft sand between his toes, the warmth of the seawater.

Obi-Wan Kenobi kissing him with surprising passion under the moonlight. Gentle lovemaking in the early dawn.

Jerked back suddenly to the Death Star, he heard a small alarm going off, and felt an awareness growing in his mind.

"Obi-Wan is here," Vader said, stalking off to meet his master, and for the final time, to forget what had happened on Coralie.


End file.
